


Holiday

by glim



Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Domestic Fluff, Multi, Post-Season/Series 02, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7390261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Why don't you have your Sidney over for the weekend?" </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta reader <3

Thursday night, the house is a riot of half-packed suitcases and bags, clothes and toys left in the sitting room that slowly become neat piles for each one of the girls. Cathy washes, dries, and folds everything she can before bedtime, and leaves the ironing for Friday. 

It's just past dawn when she wakes up Friday morning and turns to kiss Geordie on the shoulder. When she tells him she's going downstairs, he mumbles something in his tired, rough morning voice that makes her curl back up against his back and kiss him again. Geordie laughs, so Cathy knows he's awake, and the sound is deep and warm. 

She loves him like this, relaxed and half-asleep, his body curved right into hers; his body and his heart and his rough-low morning voice, when she has that all to herself. Cathy presses her face into the crook of Geordie's neck and closes her eyes. 

She'll only ever share him with somebody who'd look after him. With somebody who'll look after all them, who needs them, too. 

"I'm going downstairs," she murmurs, her eyes still closed against the light that creeps between the bedroom curtains.

Geordie makes another sleepy sound and tugs Cathy closer for a few seconds. He settles on his back when she moves away from him and smiles, blurry with sleep. "I'll come down."

"Don't need to, not yet. I won't have your tea ready," she warns. 

He smiles again and shakes his head. "No matter. I'll be down early." 

"Just don't get in my way, you." Cathy reaches for her dressing gown and slides into it as she stands by the bed. Geordie makes no move to get out of bed, but flings one arm above his head and turns to watch her, still smiling, still soft with sleep. "Well, maybe I'll have the kettle on..." 

"Then I'll do the tea." 

"On a weekday? Must be a holiday, then."

Geordie laughs, and Cathy leans back to kiss him, and kiss him, and press her face to his and remember that all the quiet moments she's had with him are the ones she'll never have to share, they'll always be hers. 

*

"Why don't you have your Sidney over for the weekend?" 

Geordie puts two cups of tea down on the table and comes to stand next to Cathy at the ironing board. He's half dressed for work, shirt unbuttoned and not tucked into his trousers, his schedule off because hers is, too. 

"My Sidney?" 

"Our Sidney, if you like," she says, at last. It's taken weeks, and she's knows it's what they've both wanted, and Geordie's not one to ask for things, much less talk about them, so Cathy has to be the one to say it. 

He looks up at her, then down at the dress she's pressing. She's made sure that each of the girls has a new dress for their first holiday. Not a hand-me-down, not something from one of their older sister's or neighbors, but something new and their own. 

"Our Sidney," Geordie says slowly, like he's trying to see how the words fit together. There's a question behind them, too, and he hovers next to Cathy when she doesn't say anything else. 

One, then another, step closer, and Geordie wraps his arms around Cathy's waist after she's done pressing the dress. He holds her until she leans in against him, head on his shoulder, back against his chest. 

"It's if you like, Cathy. Only if you do." His words are slow and quiet, thoughtful even, but not uncertain. 

She makes him wait a few moments, because she loves him like this, too, close and patient, his lips brushing her hair. "Well, go on, then. Invite our Sidney over for the weekend. I'll do something nice for dinner tonight."

"He doesn't need something nice. He gets fed dinner every night at home." 

"Something nice for me, then," Cathy says. 

Geordie kisses her hair and brings Cathy her cup of tea, drinks his with her as they wait for the sun to fully rise and the girls start to stir upstairs. They're too excited to sleep past sunrise, and Cathy needs at least a few more minutes to get the sitting room ready for last minute changes and additions to their suitcases. 

She sends Geordie upstairs for David, gets the girls up and ready herself, and is soon engulfed by the noise and bustle of a morning before a holiday. 

"Now," Cathy says and hands David over to Geordie, who's still not done up his shirt or put on his tie, while she braids Ivy's hair, "my sister's going to pick the girls up around eight, to take them to the station, and then down to the seashore. You'll give them all a ride to the station." 

"I will. Of course I will," he says when Cathy frowns up at him. "And you'll have your Mam all to yourself today," he says to David, who tries to reach for Geordie's tea. "Lucky boy." 

"Lucky me," Cathy says. She'll miss the girls more than she's going to admit, especially while they're still home, but she and Geordie and David will drive down to the seashore on Sunday to stay the week.

Taking David for a quiet walk to the shops later today will be different, and she'll maybe buy him something new, too, to wear when they take photographs on their holiday. And she will do something nice for dinner, because they all deserve that, dinner and a quiet evening together, and a quiet morning tomorrow, too. 

A lull, then a new burst of noise as the girls exchange toys and hats and David squeals with glee as Geordie gets his breakfast ready. Cathy's back in the middle of the storm of excitement in seconds, and she's glad for that, too, for the shouts and laughter and the way her girls hug her when she manages to squeeze one last thing into their cases for the week ahead. 

 

* * *

 

"You're on your own this weekend, then, are you?" Geordie doesn't look up from his desk work as he talks to Sidney. 

"For most of it. Leonard should be back from his university by Sunday around noon." Sidney stretches in his seat, muffling a yawn. Even without looking up, Geordie can tell he looks tired; he looked exhausted early this morning, so there's no way he's managed to actually look much better after spending the rest of it running around with Geordie. "Mrs. M. left me two casseroles to reheat. You'd think she was planning to be gone for ages, not two days." 

Geordie scratches a few words of explanation on a form, hopes it's legible, and moves on to the next piece of paper work from the week's shut cases. "Cathy thinks you should come over for dinner tonight." 

"Cathy wants me over for dinner?"

"She's fond," Geordie says. He has to force himself not to look at Sidney because he knows that he's smiling, the ridiculous, tired, relaxed smile he has, and that Geordie will not be able to resist. 

Sidney makes a thoughtful sound, and the chair creaks as he leans forward. "I am, too," he murmurs.

Another second, then Geordie looks up and meets Sidney's gaze. His door is shut, and the station's half-cleared out for a summertime Friday, but it's still the station and there's only so much he can say to Sidney here. He can give him a smile and a nod, and half-glance away when Sidney almost blushes. 

"Come over for diner," Geordie tells Sidney instead of asking, and he knows Sidney will say yes. 

"Shall I bring a casserole?"

"Oh god, no. Cathy'll kill me if I let you do that. She wants to do something special for dinner, so don't you dare ruin it for her." 

Sidney leans back in his chair and laughs, and the hot, tight knot of nerves in Geordie's stomach suddenly lets go of him. He'd do anything for Cathy, he would, and he'd never ask her to do this for him if she didn't want it to. Christ, he'd never ask Sidney, he doesn't even know how to ask Sidney. 

But, god, how he wants them, how he wants both of them is a feeling and a need that Geordie will never be able to find words to explain. It's the tight, hot feeling in his stomach when he hears Sidney laugh, and the warmth dissolving through his limbs when Cathy wakes him up with a kiss and whispered good morning. It's the way they both look at him, unassuming and fond, in the quick, quiet moments between conversations and questions. 

*

Dinner is special, not because it's a roast, potato, and veg on a Friday night, but because they declare it so. 

Geordie puts David to bed while Cathy finishes in the kitchen, changes him and gives him his nighttime bottle and holds him until he falls asleep. By the time David's down for the night, Sidney's in the kitchen helping Cathy. 

"Sidney," Geordie says. For a flickering moment he thinks that maybe the three of them will just be having dinner. 

But Sidney turns and smiles, full and without reserve, and says "Geordie" in that open, unguarded tone of voice that Geordie knows it's not going to be just dinner. 

"Let me get you a drink." Geordie rests a hand on Sidney's arm, and finds himself suddenly, ridiculously pleased that Sidney already has his jacket off, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his sleeve rolled up. 

"That means he wants a drink," Cathy says. She smiles over her shoulder at Geordie, eyes bright and pleased. 

Definitely not just dinner, then. Geordie pours drinks for all three of them before dinner, and then again after dinner when they're sprawled out on the sofa in the sitting room. 

Cathy has Sidney sit between them, and his face is flushed with shyness and pleasure all at once. For the first time, Geordie finds it easier to not hesitate, to not wait for somebody else to ask the right question or touch him the right way to make it easier on him. 

He slides one hand up to cup Sidney's cheek; he's warm, warmer than Geordie would've thought, even with the blush rising, and his lips move against Geordie's thumb as he brushes against them. 

"We're so pleased," Geordie says, low and quiet, "so grateful. For so many things, and for this, too." 

Sidney ducks his head away, but smiles and only says, "Me, too." 

Geordie touches him, and touches him again, his face, his lips, the bridge of his nose. Cathy's fingers find his as he hand falls from Sidney's face and their fingers lace tightly together. He leans across Sidney to kiss his wife, and to watch his wife kiss his friend. 

Sidney gives a soft 'oh' of surprise and pleasure, and Cathy's eyes are still so bright and shining. They deserve this, both of them, this evening and this moment, when they both know that they are loved and needed and that there is no thing more important than their happiness. 

Geordie leans in to touch his forehead to Sidney's and for a while, just breathes in the scent of his skin and lets his body learn the feel of Sidney's pressed close to his. It's been so long since he's kissed anyone but Cathy that he wonders if he'll know how, if his mouth will work against Sidney's. But Sidney kisses him first, warm and full, drawing Geordie closer and closer until he feels a little dizzy. He lets Geordie draw away, then presses a quiet kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

Cathy reaches over to brush the tips of her fingers against the place where Sidney kissed Geordie, her touch full of the same warmth as his. Geordie kisses both of them, hands and lips and mouths, and pulls them both from the sofa to the bedroom, and finds he has nothing left to ask for from either of them. 

 

* * *

 

A grey drizzle clouds the sky Saturday morning, and Sidney wakes up before the rest of the house. He can't bear to move at first, not with how he's still nestled in with Cathy and Geordie in their bed. 

It's nice, he thinks, mind wandering to last night and early this morning. Safe. Warm. Easy. Easier than he thought it would be, and better than he'd imagined. He'd fallen asleep before the two of them last night, the murmur of their voices lulling him into the deep, restful sleep he hadn't realized he so desperately needed until this morning. Even now, it's so much easier to let himself relax, and allow himself to be satisfied with this moment of quiet and rest.

Sidney turns to nuzzle his face in against Geordie's chest, and smiles when that only earns him a grunt. Closing his eyes, he's able to doze off for a few more minutes and relish the soft sound of rain falling and the peaceful rhythm of sleep. 

He stirs a bit, wakeful again, and sighs into the slide of Cathy's arm around his waist. She hugs him when he says good morning, and holds him until they're both awake enough to sit up in bed and let Geordie wake up on his own time. Sidney slides an arm around Cathy to hold her against him, humming approval when she tousles his hair first before settling against his side. 

"Does he always sleep like this?" Sidney strokes Geordie's hair, then his shoulder, and shakes his head when he burrows further down into the pillows and blankets.

"Like a rock, you mean? Only since we've had kids." 

"Convenient," Sidney says, and laughs. 

"Speaking of..." Cathy turns aside and listens, then nods when, a few seconds later, there's the sound of babbling from down the hall. "He's always up before the everyone else, no matter what day it is." 

"I can go," Sidney offers. "Does he -- will David mind? He might want you. Or his breakfast."

Cathy shakes her head. "He just wants company. And oh, he knows you," she adds. "He won't cry for you, he'll just want your attention, that's all." 

Sidney laughs again, and presses a kiss to her cheek. Before he gets out of bed, he leans down to kiss Geordie on the shoulder, then on the chest. He might not be awake, but he murmurs something wordless and pleased to Sidney, and Sidney thinks, perhaps, it wouldn't be very difficult to spend the whole day like this, drizzle-grey and sleepy. 

He pulls on his shorts and trousers and goes to get David, and is still talking quietly to the baby when Geordie walks in and rests a hand on his back. 

"Morning. I see you two are getting on." 

"Good morning." Sidney hands David over to Geordie when he reaches and asks for his Dad. "We were having a very serious discussion." 

"I don't even doubt that. Good morning," Geordie says when David pats his face. "Are you hungry already? Do you want your cereal? I think he uses us for food." 

Sidney smiles and shakes his head, and David thinks that's funny because he laughs as Geordie bounces him. One hand still on Sidney's back, Geordie draws Sidney into him and rests his cheek against Sidney's bare shoulder. "Come have breakfast with us, at least. Before you go." 

"I only need to go to look after Dickens. You know I'll come back, right, Geordie? That this wasn't just... Well. You do know, right?" 

Geordie only nods in reply, so Sidney gives him a serious look. It doesn't need to be every night, or even every week, but Sidney doesn't mean to let go of the people that he cares about. 

He couldn't, not after he's learned what it means to feel safe and wanted, to wake up and know that every moment that lead up to this one has been a blessing. He's spent enough time on his own, spent enough time in his own head and with the hollow ache in his chest; there have been enough empty nights and mornings during the past few months that he's more than willing to fill up the empty ones from hereon in with time spent here. 

Sidney leans in against Geordie and doesn't move for quite a few moments after that. "I'm going to finish getting dressed, then I can help with breakfast." 

"The washing up can your job, then," Geordie says. "Whenever you're here." 

"Whenever I'm here." Sidney doesn't move quite yet then, either, because the rain is still pattering down and it's still a bit gloomy outside, but warm and close inside, and Geordie hasn't bothered to get dressed yet. 

"Have breakfast with us," Geordie says again, rubbing his hand up and down Sidney's spine, "and I'll drive you back home. If you want company--" 

"Dickens needs a long walk this morning, You should come with us." 

"I can do that." 

Sidney smiles in reply. He likes Geordie's certainty, he likes knowing that the morning will unwind slowly around the three of them, that the morning drizzle will taper off and that he and Geordie will spend the time before lunch walking in companionable silence. 

He knows because they've done so many of things before, that the newness between them, the warmth and secret intimacy, will settle into their lives as well. 

*

These are the moments that Sidney carries with him throughout the rest of the weekend: the first moments on Saturday morning, waking up with the sound of the rain outside and falling back asleep to the rise and fall of Geordie's even breathing, quiet conversations before breakfast, eating toast and drinking strong tea as the sky clears and the summer sun finds its way out of the clouds; the quiet drive back to the vicarage with Geordie and the long walk they take Dickens out for together, tea in the vicarage and the promise of snatched evenings and early mornings spent together.


End file.
